But I got a Philip Larkin joke in first.
Here's Phillip Larkin's take:
In Hull's grey heart, the faithful wait,
Their hopes pinned on a distant dream,
But fate, that cruel mistress, seals their fate,
And leaves them stranded by a cold, grey stream.
Brandon Thomas-Asante, swift and bright,
Promised to be the star we've longed to see,
Yet Sky Blue shirts, a siren's blight,
Lured him away, and left us in dismay.
The Tigers' roar now muted, soft and low,
In pubs and bars, our pints a bitter toast,
To what might have been, to dreams aglow,
Now shattered, left to haunt us like a ghost.
Hull, crowned with culture's fleeting grace,
Now feels the sting of yet another blow,
Each jilt, each loss, another harsh embrace,
Another striker gone, despair to show.
The pitch, once green with possibility,
Now seems a field of sorrow, lined with loss,
Each pass, each goal, a painful parody,
Of dreams deferred, now covered in a moss.
Yet still we stand, the faithful, every game,
Our hearts worn down by yet another blow,
For Hull's the place where hope and heartache claim,
Their due, in equal measure, as we know.
So here's to Brandon, gone to Sky Blue shores,
May Coventry bring all he hoped to find,
While here in Hull, we'll chant, our throats now hoarse,
And dream of days when fate will change her mind.
